Fate Of Mine
by LadyKimmey
Summary: When deciding to investigate a case Sam discovers that it wasn't by chance. They are being led by someone and threatened by others that will stop at nothing to prevent their interference. Is it coincidence when they stumble upon a thirty-year old case involving a crib fire? Does it have anything to do with Sam's past or everything to do with the FBI agent that is also searching?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Finally, got my first chapter of this crossover up. As I asked some of my lovelies, it was debated about who would go good with Spencer, Dean or Sam. Sam won and my muse is happy with the choice. Let us see how long it lasts. This plot will be based on what info I could find, more or less I've seen all the episodes, but 11 and 12 seasons of both there is many. I'm old can't remember all the details. Please bear with me while it develops. I love Supernatural and I wanna go with a plot that explains why Spencer is so special. Come on, how many of us can remember what we ate last week, much less everything? Plus, he's so damn fuckable! Okay, please review and leave me some comments. And Happy Holidays!

P.S. The fic will start out as a Hotch/Reid, but the main pairing will be Sam/Reid. I'm sorry, I love them together but the point of the xover is to go for a new pairing. The team will make many appearances throughout the fic but it is going to be focused on Sam and Spencer being together.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything and not getting paid for writing this soon to be smut filled fic, purely to entertain those with naughty minds and a hopefully decent plot!

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Chapter One

"Honey, I'm home," He was home and there was no one to respond to the soft whisper announcing his arrival. The only sound to greet Spencer was the drip-drip of the kitchen sink, a problem that had been reported a week ago, and maintenance had yet to show during an off day to fix the leak. A wave of foolishness swept in as the seconds went by and still no one responded to his announcement. It was his apartment, naturally there wouldn't be anyone waiting for him to come home. Keys were placed on the nearby table, along with his bag.

His go-bag was still in the trunk of his car, waiting for the next time it would be needed. The team had been given the okay to head home and get some sleep but a call could come in at any time. After being away for five days, it was nice to be surrounded by his belongings. A nostalgic feeling settled in his chest as both shoes came off and the tie was loosened. These days being in the small dwelling was the only time he could relax and drop the façade. The last case had played hell on his nerves and things had gotten out of hand at one point.

It was near impossible to pretend that nothing had changed in his life. They had noticed that as of six months ago, something drastic had changed in his life. That change was that he had made the mistake of jumping into a relationship. The female members of the team had been the first to realize that he was acting different, picking up on the small signs. Penelope had been the first one to corner him and ask why he was smiling so much. His reaction to her accusation of 'If I didn't know any better, I'd say you got lucky last night,' had condemned him. It was hard not to turn red when he had in fact spent the previous night doing extremely naughty things. Hours later both blondes had been grinning and giving him knowing looks. Rossi had simply asked if he was seeing someone during the flight. Not wanting to outright lie and deny that he was with someone, he had given a clipped 'yes' and turned the conversation back to the case.

How could tell them with a straight face that he was sleeping with the boss? Aaron had asked to keep things between them. For weeks, he had brought up reasons why the team would accept their relationship, but Aaron had more than the team to consider. Spencer knew that things were easier for him when it came to announcing their relationship. The team wouldn't care either way but the brass wouldn't approve of it. It wasn't even the job that had his lover stalling when it came to letting the world know that they were together. After three intense arguments, Aaron finally confessed that it was all about Jack. So for months, Spencer had allowed himself to be content with hidden moments and a few hours on the nights Aaron could come over before going home.

Settling, it was what he had been doing. The last night they had met up, he had to be honest with himself. Spencer had booked a room, ordered in a fancy dinner, and had planned for a nice evening together. Aaron had stopped by long enough to kiss him a few times and then he had to depart. For hours, he had felt like an asshole for getting angry about being ditched. Aaron had been in his right to get upset that he had gotten pissed, and for that Spencer had apologized. However, the fight had been the turning point. Lashing out hadn't been the correct way to handle the problem but it was done. The fact remained that if Aaron was serious about the relationship, then he should tell his son. If Jack knew then they wouldn't have to sneak around. Being honest would make things easier and open up more opportunities for them to spend time together. Instead, Jack was under the impression that his father was straight as a board and there was nothing wrong with trying to dictate what kind of woman Aaron should date.

Spencer had felt the straw that broke his resolve crash down in the form of a busty, flirtatious, and beautiful teacher. Exactly three weeks, four days, seven hours, and twelve minutes ago, the math teacher had shown up at the birthday barbeque the team had planned for their boss. Spencer had spotted the woman coyly flirting with his lover, all smiles, and making it apparent that she was glad to be there. With more calm than one should have in that situation, Spencer had politely asked JJ who she was. The blonde had grinned wide and said it was Jack's teacher. Jack had asked her to call the woman and invite her to the party because Jack likes her. Spencer knew what it meant; Jack was trying to set his father up with his favorite teacher. Hell, he couldn't even be angry at the kid for doing so. Jack had spoken loudly for them all to hear, that he thinks his dad is lonely, and he wants him to find someone to be happy with.

Hearing those words had been another nail in the coffin. A child had stood there and without realizing it, he had pointed out a major flaw in their relationship. JJ had agreed with Jack, that Hotch did seem to be lonely. Everyone thought Hotch was lonely but they had been together over five months at that point. How could his boyfriend come off as being lonely if he wasn't alone? When posed the question, Aaron hadn't been able to explain why they got that impression. They could all tell that he was in a happy, if anonymous, relationship, but his boyfriend was giving off the signs of someone that was alone and miserable.

When Spencer had approached Aaron about needing time apart, the had been the question as to why. He explained that he wasn't sure if it was going to work and he believed they both needed time. In reality, Spencer knew what he wanted but he wanted to give Aaron the time to make sure it was what he had wanted. They had jumped into it immediately after a night of sex without really discussing what a relationship between them would mean. Without a doubt, he knew that Aaron cared about him, but was it the type of love that could keep the man happy? Would they feel the same a year from now? Did Aaron love him enough to come forward and tell those that were important to him that Spencer was just as important? Most likely the answer was negative. As the days turned into weeks, Spencer was sure that he had given his boss the out he had been searching for.

According to Penelope, his boyfriend didn't want him back. The hacker hadn't asked for a name when he had admitted that he thought his boyfriend needed time, so they had broken up. She had asked why, he was honest, and said his boyfriend wasn't okay with coming out to his family and friends. She had agreed that he should give the man some space to figure things out, but advised that he should watch for signs whenever he talked to or saw this person. This being his first serious relationship and breakup, he had asked what he should be looking for.

A boyfriend that is regretting the breakup should be showing the following signs: Signs of sleep loss, hesitation when parting via talking on phone or in person, and longing glances. Two days ago, she had asked how the prognosis was coming along. He had snapped that his ex looked right as rain, kept all contact to a minimum, was practically ignoring him, and had gone on several dates with someone else. The bubbly woman had frowned and hugged him, saying how sorry she was that it didn't work out for him. He was sorry as well, because they still had to work together, and it was all true.

Aaron, no Hotch, only spoke to him when it had to do with work. They no longer sat by each other on the jet, the other making sure to board last to sit the furthest away without drawing suspicions. Spencer had found himself constantly glancing towards his ex in the hopes that he'd catch something resembling a mournful or longing glance in his direction. Even while speaking to him, Hotch wouldn't make eye contact. Sure, he had been the one to end things but it must have been the right decision. Hotch seemed unaffected by dissolvement of their affair.

"Shit," that was what his life was amounting to at the moment, but it was the pain in his toe that had him swearing. What the hell? He knew exactly where everything was in his home and the coffee table was two inches over too far to the left. The big toe was hissing in pain and felt to be bleeding. The swear had exited before he could think of anything else to describe the reaction to stubbing his foot. Hastily, he maneuvered into his bedroom and into the bathroom, bypassing the kitchen.

Once inside, he hit the light switch, and plopped down on the toilet seat. The outer curve was split open, blood was trickling to strike the cold tile. It was a superficial wound, he wouldn't have to call for an ambulance, or take an axe to the antique table gifted from his mother. Perhaps, he should call Hotch and tell the man how this was all his fault. It was hard to concentrate on anything when all he could think about was how he had failed to make the man happy. If he had been paying attention he would have noticed that the furniture had somehow gotten moved out of place. A band-aid was applied after cleaning the area.

A bleeding toe was the least of his worries. The chances of being called on another case was growing with each hour, and it was getting difficult to pretend that none of this was getting to him. It hurt, that was the only way to explain what he was going through. He had known that by giving someone time to decide what they wanted didn't always mean it went in your favor. He had known that there was a chance that Aaron would decide that it wasn't going to happen. What he hadn't expected was that he meant so little that the man would have no problem immediately dating someone else. Why wouldn't he? Jack was in love with the woman, why wouldn't Aaron also fall for her? Being with someone like that meant making his son happy. Spencer wouldn't fool himself into thinking his worth rated in the same category as a child, nor could he love someone that would put anyone above their own child. It just broke his heart that he didn't even warrant needing time to get over.

Thoughts of his many failings kept him company long enough to change and climb into bed. Getting to sleep was going to be a chore. A setback to having cheap rent, the walls were paper thin. If his new neighbors weren't fucking, they were fighting. He much preferred the old woman that had once stayed in the apartment. Two months ago, she had been found dead from a massive heart attack, and within three days the 'wonder couple' had moved in.

Spencer had spotted the female twice while checking the mail. GOTH, possibly into the occult, and weird. Being strange wasn't against the law, so he couldn't say anything until pets went missing in the building. Being a bitch was also not something he could complain about unless some kind of damage was done. Having a young woman dressed all in black, dark makeup, and crimson contacts glaring at you while you grab your bills wasn't worth drawing attention to. He had been polite and smiled before leaving for work. He gave the female a few respect points for daring to wear those ridiculous six inch heels and being able to scale six flights of stairs and not breaking a bone.

The only reason he knew that a boyfriend or husband had also moved in was from the noise. Tonight, they were fighting instead of the usual. The ramblings barely made sense to him and it was another one of those. The female was shouting about doing something and not wanting to wait. The male replied with a gruff 'The master will not be pleased," and he had heard enough. With the leather, the two possibly enjoyed a healthy S&M relationship. It wasn't his place to judge another's lifestyle. Not when someone was shining a scope light in his window, twin dots.

Instinct kicked in and he was reaching for the discarded weapon. Blood beat in his ears, air caught in his throat, a response to the possibility of danger. Spencer scrambled to push himself against the wall and out of danger. Seconds ticked with no sounds of a shot. The light was still there, the tiny red dots indicating that someone was trying to take aim, but where was the rest of the beam? Turning his head towards his bed, in the direct line of sight, but there was nothing. At that angle it should be highlighting where his chest had been moments prior. There was nothing marring the blue sheets and the lights weren't moving.

The glow swung to the left at the sound of frantic knocking, the noise coming from his front door. Spencer imagined the expression of one's jaw dropping seeing the motion sweeping equally back and forth, like a pair of eyes before they disappeared completely. He had to rub his eyes when nothing but darkness remained on the other side of the glass. Had he imagined the whole thing? The set had turned in the direction of his position for a split second, impossible if it were a sniper. At that direct angle from his window there was nothing. He was on the seventh floor and the park was directly south-east from his bedroom window. A ray of light shouldn't move with a swinging motion, it would be directed by a shooter looking through a scope.

The knock had now turned into a pounding and his phone was going off. With one last glance towards the window, he went to answer the door. Logic dictated that a thief or murderer wouldn't announce their presence by knocking. The uneasy feeling remained all the way to the door, "Who is it?"

"It's me," the voice was the last person he wanted to hear from but also the most.

Doing so would make things harder on him, but Spencer found his fingers weren't listening to his brain. The lock was removed and the frame opened to show his boss standing there. "Hotch, is there a problem?"

"May I come in?" Aaron spotted the hesitation before the door was opened to allow him inside. Coming here was the wrong thing to do but he had found himself pulling into the parking lot before he could second guess himself. This entire situation wasn't working, "I know the last time we spoke in private it didn't end well but I don't think you really need that."

"Oh," Spencer almost laughed at the worried expression. He was upset but nowhere near enough to try to shoot him. "I wasn't sure who was knocking at my door this late and I wasn't expecting you."

"I know you weren't. I tried to catch you before you left the office but you were gone before I could speak with you." Aaron quickly analyzed the reaction to his showing up unannounced. Was it wrong to assume that there was a sign of relief that it was him? Why the gun? Spencer didn't live in a bad neighborhood and this wasn't the first night he had shown up unannounced late, but this was the first time he had been met with a gun. "Is everything okay?"

"What would you like me to say? Yes, I am fine," Spencer left the rest unsaid. He was alive and healthy, but emotionally he wasn't doing well. "Why are you here?"

"You know why," Aaron didn't think it needed to be said. He was here to talk about them. Did Spencer think he was the only one that was being affected? As much as he appreciated being given time to make sure this was what he wanted, he already knew that he didn't want anyone but the genius standing before him.

"No, I don't." Emotion clogged his throat having a calloused hand reach up to stroke his cheek. The touch was very familiar and it made keeping the promise to himself more difficult with each passing second.

"I…" Aaron wanted to say the words that would change everything. He wanted to give Spencer the relationship that he deserved, the one they both wanted, but it wasn't that simple. He had a responsibility to his son, it wasn't only him that would be affected. "I want to give you what you want, you know I do."

"I wish I could believe that," but he couldn't. Spencer didn't believe that things would be as terrible as Aaron feared. Jack loved his father and was old enough to understand what their relationship meant. Which could also be the reason the man feared telling his son. Did Aaron really believe that being bi-sexual would make his son think less of him? It was a sound fear and Spencer couldn't demand that he risk it, that was up to Aaron.

"Do you at least believe that I love you?" Aaron needed him to know that. There were things he had to deal with before he could commit. He had no idea how Jack would react to his sexuality or that he was contemplating on making the relationship permanent. The silence spoke volumes, sending a chill right through his chest. "Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?"

"Not at all if I'm to believe my eyes. You seem to be dealing with it well enough." Spencer's voice bristled despite the horrified stare. They had promised honesty when this had begun and tossing the accusation helped to alleviate some of the hurt that had been weighing down his own heart. "How did Rossi put it? 'This new lady must be special, I haven't seen you this content in years.' I think that about covers the extent of your anguish over my departure from your life. It's good to know that I was the cause of your previous misery."

"Dammit, of course you were the cause of it." Aaron snagged the arm before he could be left standing alone. He wouldn't finish this discussion through a door. "Listen to me. Yes, I was miserable but not for the reasons you think. Did you ever think what it was like for me? I was miserable because I was happy. I was finally happy again and I couldn't be happy with you around others. I don't like pretending that you are just another member of my team. I hate having to pretend that your life holds the same importance as the others when we head into a situation. I hate that I get jealous when JJ hugs you."

"Then why the silent treatment?" Spencer almost faltered at the words. He wanted to give in and accept whatever Aaron was willing to give.

"You ended it to give me time," it had been a selfless action and it endeared the genius to him more. "I still need time before I can commit to anything serious but I don't need more time to know that I miss being with you. I don't want to be with anyone else, I want you. Just give me time to figure out how to handle the situation with Jack and work."

How could he say no? Spencer didn't open his mouth until lips crashed over his own. The kiss mirrored the longing that had kept him up for weeks. It was easy to give into the request for more time. He wanted to believe that it would work out for the best and that Aaron truly did have every intention of working things out so they could be together. "Stay the night?"

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"I spy something yellow," Dean chuckled lightly at the scathing glare. The game had long lost its appeal hours ago on the drive east. The only pleasure it granted was being able to irritate his sibling into responding with a derisive answer.

"Corn, and for the next ten times, corn." Sam was starting to hate the color yellow. There wasn't much on the backroads that this town had the gumption to call a highway, except crops. The only station that one could catch was being broadcasted by the local church. Gospel tunes would put him asleep and he was near ready to crash for a change of pace. "Wanna hit the diner?"

"For corn," Dean heard his stomach agree that it would willingly take the vegetable if it meant getting food. They were into their eighteenth hour of non-stop driving and coffee would hit the spot. The day was starting dreary with a light rain in the air. "Sure, I could go for a bite."

The case would have to be put on hold for another hour. Stanton, Ohio wasn't going anywhere and neither were the victims. After getting food, Dean would be taking over, giving him time to sleep. Sam almost wished he hadn't found the case. Months had passed since they had run into anything child related. He still hated handling this kind of problem, but in this case over a dozen children had fallen into comas for no apparent reason. It was in their area of expertise and worth checking out.

"You ready to talk about it?" Dean popped the question for the third time since dawn. The plan was to keep asking until his little brother confided. He wanted to think that after all these years they were beyond keeping things from each other. Be it sleeping with demons, using or having dangerous abilities, or becoming the host for the leader of hell. To keep from drifting apart, they had promised no secrets.

"It's nothing to worry about," dreams were dreams. Sam didn't want to get worked up over a few dreams. They weren't premonitions, that he was sure of. The images weren't predicting anything, because they were all about himself. "They aren't like before, they are just dreams."

"Dreams where you wake up sweating or screaming." Dean knew they were bound to have some nightmares after all they had been through over the years but Sammy was having them almost every night for the last three months. Be it a fifteen minute nap or after being asleep for most of the night, his sibling would always wake from a dream. "You practically soaked my seat with sweat last night and it is below freezing outside, you can't tell me that it is normal."

"Tell you what, if I think the dreams mean anything I'll tell you about it, but let's worry about this case first." Sam recoiled at the mention of his last dream. He preferred some kind of premonition over what he had seen. A sign would be great over seeing himself that way. He could only imagine why his appearance would change or what would persuade him to have sex with a stranger. Not just a stranger, but an unknown male. The main reason he didn't want to confide in Dean was due to the outcome of most of his dreams. His brother might be okay with hearing of his dream-self having strange abilities but not the rest.

Sam would always try to recall who it was, believing it was someone from his past. The face was always the one thing he could never remember once he woke up. When he woke to screams, it was due to seeing himself fighting and losing, his broken and twisted body unable to save the other figure in his dreams. Times like yesterday, he woke sweating for another reason. The intimacy was so close to the real thing that his body felt like it had gone through the stages of exertion, and there would always be an issue in his boxers. A dream induced orgasm that left him sated and exhausted, it was embarrassing enough that he was having wet dreams at his age.

"Alright, Sammy," Dean let it go, for now. He'd take his word that it wasn't a premonition or something to worry about. They both had emotional and mental scars to deal with, "How much cash do you have on you?"

"Enough," the inquiry was dropped for now. It would last until the next time he woke up showing signs. Sam cracked the window to allow the cool breeze inside the cramped vehicle. Soon enough he would have to admit what was bothering him. How could he tell his brother, who was mad about women, that the best sex he'd ever experienced were in dreams involving another male? "Any idea what we might find when we get there?"

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Please leave comments for me, sorry for any mistakes... if there is any that are horrible, let me know and I'll fix it, thanx!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Next chapter, hope you enjoy.

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Chapter Two

Today wasn't a good day, when it should be. Spencer tried to lighten his mood seeing the suit grace him with a brief glance of his lover, if only for three seconds it took for Hotch to walk across the room. His heart felt lighter recalling the promise of spending the weekend together. The last few nights had been spent in Aaron's bed, a step towards something more permanent. Jack had no idea that Spencer had left the couch to climb into his father's bed, but the boy hadn't been distraught that his father's friend had stayed the night.

The requested stack of paperwork remained untouched next to his elbow, JJ's unfinished work that he had promised to do so the mother could go home early to sick children. The worried expression had kept him from asking to be allowed to leave early as well. The tension between his temples was getting worse, feeling like explosions going off behind his eyes. The first pain had made an appearance just before dawn, making it impossible to fall back asleep. Six painkillers later and it was increasing. The hollow throbbing pulsed with each heartbeat.

"We can't be wrong, he is the one."

That wasn't a positive sign either. Fingers gently massaged both temples, trying to alleviate some of the tension that had him close to weeping. Spencer didn't want to alert anyone to his predicament, it would only cause unneeded worry. The headache was from stress and overworking himself for the last few weeks.

"He's beautiful, must we?"

The feminine voice carried a high-pitch, like an overzealous child. Spencer counted to ten to will the voices away. Without bringing attention to himself, he glanced around the office, looking for anyone close enough to overhear. No one, the area was empty for several cubicles. There wasn't a person close enough to hear as if they were speaking directly into his ear. Not caring that others might believe he had fallen asleep at the desk, he cupped his head and focused on the pain.

"Kill him while he is weak, or we may fail. He still sleeps."

"So beautiful, I want him."

"Reid," Aaron spoke loud enough for his voice to carry to the bowed head. The pale features turned at his voice, weariness etched on the lovely face. It was pitiful how seeing the exhaustion and the worry made him feel. With just a look and he longed to rush down the few steps and gather the slender male in his arms, consequences be damned. If only the genius was observant enough to truly see what was going on. It wasn't the right time to bring up his own insecurities, not when he couldn't commit fully. Just a bit longer and he would be able to give Spencer the relationship that he wanted, that the doctor deserved. The only approval he cared about was Jack's, and that went but so far. At first his son may not understand why he would prefer a male to a woman. That was the reason he was trying to bring Spencer around more, so his son could also come to love him as much as he did.

"Yeah, Hotch?" The name stumbled out, Spencer catching himself before he called the boss by his given name while in the office.

"Can you come to my office?" Aaron stepped away from the door knowing his request would be fulfilled. He reached over to slowly close the shades, to keep out prying eyes. Others would assume that he was in a meeting and didn't wish to be spied up. He was in the process of removing his coat when he was joined. "Close and lock the door."

It was done and Spencer sighed feeling the hands on his waist before he could take a step further into the office. The embrace was welcomed and temporarily distracted from the headache. "Did you need me for something?"

"Yes, but we'll have to wait until we get back to my place." To do so here would risk getting caught. Dave was still in his office next door and things could get loud. If Spencer began to get loud, he wouldn't have the desire to ask him to quiet down. The hot, little noises were a turn on and the sex wouldn't be the same without them. "How are you feeling? Do you still have the headache?"

"It's gotten worse," Spencer turned in the embrace to lean his head onto the broad shoulders. One thing he loved about the man, the strong shoulders. Having such a small frame himself, he liked the way it felt to be held by someone so much stronger than himself. They were close in height but Aaron was twice the man he was in every sense. "This helps, it's been a long day."

"It has, and it was sweet of you to insist on helping JJ when you obviously don't feel well." Aaron had come close to snapping at the mother of two when she had more or less played Spencer like a pro. The children weren't that ill, mild colds, but he had heard the two blondes discussing a double date during their lunch break. They were going out tonight so the children weren't going to be rushed to the emergency room any time soon. What kept his mouth shut was hoping that it would put them in this very predicament. The office was close to being cleared out and he would be able to have the genius to himself for a while.

"It's just a headache," and he was hearing things. At the moment, the voices had been drowned out to incoherent whispering. Horror filled his veins at the implication of hearing things could possibly mean for someone with his family history. Hearing people talking in his head wasn't a good sign and he prayed that it was a sign of being exhausted and not something else.

"You look peaked and you didn't sleep well last night," Aaron was growing concerned. They had come to an agreement of sorts and had spent the last three nights together. Spencer had readily accepted the invite to stay at his place. It had been nice to have his lover beside him at night.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you awake." From the increased heartrate, the sweat, and the throbbing erection, it hadn't been a nightmare. Spencer had almost panicked when the arm draped around his waist last night had ventured south after he had woken up with a start. How embarrassing and conflicting to tell one's lover that the person in his dream hadn't been them. He couldn't recall most of it but the other male in his dream had been younger than his boss.

"I don't mind, I am happy as long as you are there to wake me." Aaron summoned the strength to put space between them. "Do you feel up to coming home with me tonight?"

Tonight? Could he accept another night together? If not for the headache, Spencer would have jumped at the chance to spend time with him. If he spent another night, it would be some time before they could relax and go to bed. Aaron had a routine, one that was very strict. First, Jack would be picked up, they would have dinner, Aaron then helped his son with any homework, and then Jack would get ready for bed. It would be after nine before the boy was ready to settle down for the night. It would be close to ten or later before they could sneak into the room together. Sex was anywhere between fifteen minutes to half an hour, putting him to get his own rest after midnight. Five came early when one was exhausted. "I haven't been home in days. Do you mind if we plan for the weekend?"

"Of course not," Aaron placed a chaste kiss on the chalky forehead. He didn't like the idea of Spencer going home alone when he was ill. He had to trust that if it were serious, his lover would confide in him. "Jessica called earlier to confirm that she will be picking Jack up after school. They'll be gone until Sunday evening, so we'll have plenty of time together."

"Looking forward to it," Spencer was grateful for the time alone. It sucked having to sit away from his boyfriend because Jack might question things if they got caught holding hands. "Call me tonight?"

"As soon as he's asleep. Go immediately home and get some rest, I'll be calling to check on you later and if you don't feel better by the morning I want you to take the day off and see a doctor."

"I will," he feared he might not need to see a general physician. Diagnosing schizophrenia was difficult but it would be one of the things the doctors would suggest the moment he told them he was hearing things. Spencer accepted the light kiss being offered before moving away.

The office door was pulled open and the balled fist paused before coming down on his chest. Spencer blushed at the raised eyebrow of the Italian but said nothing to explain why he had been behind closed doors with their boss. If Rossi wanted to ask about their relationship, then it wouldn't be to him. The man stepped inside the door he had just fled through and it closed gently to shut him off from Aaron. With no reason to remain at the office any longer, his belongings were packed and tossed into his shoulder bag.

The elevator dinged as he approached and the doors opened, saving him the trouble of having to wait. He waited a second for the person inside to exit but the man remained. A hand shot out to prevent the doors from closing on him. "Are you going down?"

"Yes, I am." The man scooted over to allow him to pass.

"First floor, please." Spencer asked since the gentleman was closer to the panel and the one button wasn't lit. Odd, no other floors were lit up to indicate where the man was going. One had to push something to get the elevator to move and the floor button should remain lit until that specified floor was reached. So where had the man been going if not for the floor he had just stepped from? He stepped back to get a better look at the person in the slowly moving box with him. White, mid-fifties, brunette, and he smelt. It was becoming stronger as each second passed and the ventilation in the elevator wasn't good enough to keep it from becoming unbearable. Another odd thing because the man was dressed in an Armani suit and wearing a Rolex, the man could surely afford a shower. Was it a brand of cigarettes? He'd have to describe the aroma being that of burnt urine. Being unhygienic could explain away the long nails adorning the wrinkled hands. It just didn't add up, the man was filthy and wearing expensive clothes.

The longer he was contained in the elevator, the more uncomfortable he became. Something was wrong but he couldn't detain the man on a hunch. The elevator dinged to announce that they had arrived. Thankfully the stranger stepped out before him and kept walking. Perhaps the man was suffering from a type of mental disorder, not unlike himself. The whispering was growing louder as he watched the stranger leave the building without looking back. How did someone that suspicious make it past security?

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Silence greeted Spencer, the emptiness making him regret not agreeing to spending another night. He longed to call and ask Aaron if the offer was still open, but made his feet cross the room. He wouldn't get much sleep if he didn't stay home and the headache was still going strong. Running off to get laid wasn't going to get rid of the pain, despite what others claimed. Rest would help ease the suffering and time alone would be best right now. Getting too attached before Aaron made a commitment would be foolish. Hell, he was already too damn involved with his boss and as things were, if it didn't work out, it would hurt. No matter how much time they spent together, their relationship was still at a standstill until his lover made that final decision. He tossed the shoulder bag onto the couch then headed to the bathroom. "I need a shower."

Half an hour later, he was under the hot spray. Washing was put on hold to grant time to enjoy the warmth running across his skin. It felt heavenly along his spine and across his bottom. Last night the sex had gotten rougher than normal and it was his fault. Spencer had begged for it, demanding as loud as he dared to be taken harder. He knew Aaron wasn't as young as he was but his lover was more than fit enough for it. When it was over, the panic had been sweet, but unwarranted. As brutal as the last few minutes had been, it hadn't come close to reaching his pain threshold.

While laying together, it made Spencer wonder just where the threshold would be. It hurt like hell when he got shot or punched, but his limits were different when it came to sexual activities. The force should have left him bruised and his opening torn, but he had barely gotten off from the treatment. The use of his hand had been needed to reach orgasm. His bottom should have been sore for several hours. Instead of his ass, his head had begun to throb after sex.

Sex between them was nice, Spencer could only compare it to one other. Aaron had surprised him by being a very attentive and passionate lover, something he wanted. The only thing that was really missing was, hell, he didn't know. It was more of a feeling than an actual complaint. Not once had things ended without both of them getting off, but something felt left unfulfilled, and he had no idea what to name it.

Which brought up the idea of what he had begun to believe he wanted. A time before he had been seduced by his boss. Ideas of finding the one and what HE would be like. Being bi-sexual made it hard to decide on what one wanted when it could be either sex. After careful experimenting with his own body, he had realized that he craved the same sex physically, more than the fairer one. Perhaps his image of what he would want was greatly influenced by his current lover. A manly man, definitely alpha material. This man would have to be just as tall if not more so than him. Thick in the shoulders, fit, and able to take care of most threats. Possibly one of the things he found missing in their sex life had to do with himself.

Reaching behind, a palm caressed the slight curve of his backside. Spencer loved to bottom, he didn't like the idea of being inside another man. His attraction was all for being the one taking. He had to be an oddity because his blood boiled when he ordered Aaron around in bed and it was done without hesitation. If he told the man to get in a position it was done without question. He led things in the bedroom and he craved that control. How often was the bottom the dominant personality when it came to sex? Sure, it was understandable when it was a man and a woman together, but two men? Aaron was in charge with everything else, except in the bedroom. It was what Spencer enjoyed, so why wasn't he completely satisfied with it?

The water was turning cold forcing him to turn off the spray and step out. Pajama pants were slipped on after drying off. Dinner would have to be called in because he hadn't bothered to go shopping since the last case. His stomach was rumbling loudly from lack of food. The cellphone was plucked from the mattress and he headed towards the kitchen with the intention of ordering something from the café down the street.

The light came on to illuminate the area containing the kitchen. Two menus were attached to the fridge with magnets. Any others were neatly placed inside a nearby drawer for the off days when he felt like something different. Tonight something simple was in order, like soup and a salad. He began to dial the numbers and on the second ring something caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

Without answering the question of being helped, he hung up on the person. He blinked rapidly to clear whatever might be clouding his vision. The image remained no matter how many times he tried to get rid of the strange sight. All of his containers were in the same place he had left them but that was definitely out of place. Opening up a top cabinet, he located the sugar, exactly where he had left it. The crystals were scattered in an area roughly a foot in diameter, dirtying the counter.

One thing he was meticulous about, it was being clean. The counter had been wiped down the last time he had prepared coffee, the morning before they had left on the last case. Sometime between then and today, the sugar had been spilt on the surface. Not a big deal except no one should have been inside his home. No one should have been helping themselves to his supplies. Leaning closer, he spotted a distinct pattern in the mess. After spilling the condiment, the person had placed their hands near the edge to leave behind three fingerprints.

Spencer switched on the overhead light to get a better view of the evidence. He was positive that the other morning, he nor Aaron had come inside the kitchen. After morning sex, they had agreed to getting breakfast out before going into the office. The camera on his phone was used to take a quick snapshot of the prints and saved on his phone. He dialed the number of the only person he could trust to help without saying anything to Hotch. The male picked up on the fourth ring, "Kevin, it's Reid."

"Evening, what can I do for you?"

"Are you still at the office? I need a favor. Hold on a sec," Spencer sent the picture to the hacker's email when it was confirmed. "I just sent you a picture of someone's print. Could you check it out and see if you get a match?"

"Is this for a case and why are you asking me to do it?" Kevin would do it because he owed him a huge favor. "I'm sure you could go through the proper channels to get a name."

"It isn't a case and I don't want to wait for approval to have it ran. There is a chance you won't get a hit but humor me." Spencer was under the assumption that someone running or someone homeless had broken in to squat in his place for a few days while he'd been out of town. "Just get in and see what you can get for me."

"On it," Kevin paused for a moment, "So how is she doing?"

"Still pissed at you," Spencer replied while checking the few windows in the apartment. All were secured and none appeared to be broken. The door had been locked each time he had come home. Nothing else was out of place, wrong. His eyes went to the antique coffee table that was still at the wrong angle from the other night. It had been out of place the night Hotch had stopped by and stayed with him.

"I tried to call her and she told me to drink dog piss." Kevin sighed on the other end.

"You shouldn't cheat," he knew all about it and didn't want to take sides. "Don't say it isn't really cheating because she knew about her. You really should decide soon. No one likes to be left hanging while the person they love makes up their mind about what they want."

"Right, and I think we got a match. That was quick," Kevin hesitated a moment before getting back to him. "What is going on? Where did you get this print?"

"It doesn't matter, did you get a name?" The chain was secured once he knew he was alone.

"I got a hit but I doubt it'll do you much good. The owner of the print is a Mr. Everette Barnes. I got a hit pretty quick seeing as he is in the system after being arrested fifteen years ago on multiple counts of murder in New York."

"Is there an address on him?" He wanted to know if it was possible for the man to be living nearby. Why would a convicted felon be in his kitchen? The man had left his prints to be found and hadn't bothered to clean up after himself.

"Yeah, he currently lives in Willowpeak Cemetery in the frozen state of Ohio. The bugger died at fifty-two, stabbed to death during a prison riot. His remains were sent back home for his mother to bury. Before you ask, I just checked and she passed six months ago. Wanna tell me why you are interested in a dead inmate?"

That wasn't possible. Spencer felt cold seeing the evidence still on the countertop. Kevin wasn't the type to lie so why would a dead man's print end up in his kitchen? How did a corpse break into his home and help himself? "Can you check to make sure that it was definitely Everette Barnes that was killed in prison?"

"I'll send the files to your tablet for you to check out. From what I can see, there shouldn't be any reason to doubt. There were witnesses, several of them guards, and there are pictures. The autopsy also proved that it was the correct inmate. The man had a pacemaker implanted when he was thirty-seven, exactly two years before the first murder. Horrible age to start having heart problems, but the report states that during the stabbing the equipment was struck and then removed on the table."

"Thanks, I'll take a look, and don't repeat any of this to anyone." Spencer wanted to see the report for himself. If the man had been confirmed dead, who had planted the false prints? Why try to make him believe that it was a dead man to break in? The more disturbing question was how close had he been to walking in on someone bold enough to hang out in his home?

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"There isn't anything here!" Dean barely held the ire at bay, not wanting to take out his anger on his brother. It wasn't their fault that the lead hadn't panned out. Not even a lead, more of an anonymous tip. The building was deserted and they had wasted time getting here, "Those kids have another hour tops and we just had to listen to that asshat and come here. Why the hell didn't we go check out the school instead?"

"Because the school would have been a dead end as well and we both knew it. We've been there three times and there is nothing to indicate that whoever is doing this was ever there." All of the children had been attending the private school but there was no actual link to the school and whatever was making them ill. The count was up to nineteen and the first had passed away this morning. The first little boy to have fallen into a coma had died of unknown causes. The doctors had no idea what was causing them to become weak and their health slowly faded until the organs shut down. Something was draining the life from the children and they had no leads. None of the parents, teachers, neighbors, or janitors were suspects. It reeked of strong magic but there were only slight traces on the children. Each had been searched to find the cause, but each was clean. "The call said to come here."

"Maybe that is because the snitch is actually the culprit. Who else would call you and tell you where to find what you are looking for? How the hell does anyone in this town know who we are besides the doctors we are pretending to be? How the hell did some asshole get your number, Sammy?"

"I don't know, Dean. You tell me. We've been running around for five days without coming up with a single clue and I'm tired of watching those parents begging everyone in scrubs to do something to help their kid. We had to do something," Sam didn't care who the informant was, not if it saved the children. They could figure out who was behind the call later, after they stopped whatever was draining those innocent kids. The call had come in early this morning, the voice on the other end had addressed him specifically and said to hurry to stop it before the spell was complete. The building was an abandoned farm house on the edge of town.

"By the time we get back another will be dead. I say you call that bastard back and let me have a few words with him." Dean hated not knowing what was going on. They had no clue what they were supposed to find here or the reason the kids were being used. What the hell was going on in this place? On cue the vibration came from nearby, "Please tell me that is him."

"Unknown," Sam slid his thumb to answer the call. If it was the anonymous tipper, he would demand to know why they'd been given this address. Was Dean right? Had they been sent here to ensure they couldn't stop it in time? Why not just let them continue being clueless? "Yes?"

"You are very slow, aren't you?" The male voice was deep and gravely. "What are you waiting for?"

"Why don't you tell me? There is nothing here," Sam snapped feeling like they were being played with. He'd shoot the asshole in the face as soon as he found him. No one had lived at the farm in over twenty years. There was nothing in the shoddy home except rats and roaches. If they were lucky they could find a spider or two hiding in some of the holes. Sending them here was dangerous due to the state of the floor. "You sent us to an abandoned farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere."

"I can tell that you are allowing your brother to hinder your potential and that disappoints me. Can't you sense it? Can't you feel it?"

"What are you talking about?" He couldn't feel anything but the overwhelming emotion of rage at being fucked with. Sam dodged the hand trying to retrieve his phone. If Dean were allowed on the man might hang up, "why did you send us out here?"

"To stop them but you are too slow. You'll have to do better next time or you just might piss me off." The phone went dead and a scream caused it to fall to the floor. It bounced all around them, the horrified scream echoing through the walls.

"Where is it coming from?" Dean went into the next room, the kitchen which was completely empty. He could see Sam through an open doorway searching the living area. Nothing, but the screaming hadn't stopped. The rats were scattering, a lump was wiggling beneath the rug. "Sammy, in here."

"What do you have?" Sam moved aside seeing the edge of the carpet being pulled back. Two rats ran out to scurry into the next room, away from the pained noise. There was a trap door, but they had already searched the storm cellar and the basement. What else could be underneath the house? "Careful."

"Let's go," Dean took the lead, heading down the lit path. There were candles lined along the stairway to show the way. The pleas had turned into a gurgling sound with a bit of thrashing from nearby. At the bottom was a small room, heavily lit, and two people within. The pitiful moans were being emitted from the female lying on the floor. There was blood pooling from the open wound, something bulky and slick was dangling from the other's hand, ending in the girl's mid-section.

"Fuck," that was intestines. Sam swallowed the bile in his throat seeing the hand tug slightly to garner another howl of pain from the victim. The clawed hands had ripped right through the abdomen, "Don't move."

"Or you'll shoot me? You should thank me, you were too slow. Another minute and she would have finished it. I could have prevented her from ever leaving here alive and using the information she was seeking but then you would have had to live with allowing all those sweet children to die."

Dean pointed the shotgun at the man's back. Was it a man? The claws didn't belong to a human and most would be squeamish about playing with someone's innards. "Alright buddy, you wanna tell us who the hell you are and what is going on here? Are you the one that called us?"

"No, I didn't call you, I called little Sammy." Another hard yank completely removed the length and it was allowed to drop onto the dying human. "Don't you dare try to avenge this one, she had it coming. Even if she were brilliant enough to find a way around the wards, she wasn't smart enough to realize that doing so would lead to her death."

"Who are you and what do you know? What was she doing?" Sam silently prayed that the girl would pass soon. There was no way to prevent her from dying now and he wasn't sure if he would if he could. If she was the one responsible for what was happening to those kids, she didn't deserve to live.

"You need not know who I am, not yet." The man turned to face them, showing his face. A middle-aged man wearing a suit beneath the heavy trench coat. Brunette hair was flecked with chunks of meat and blood. "Just know that the children should recover now and she nor those she is allied with, shall ever find the one they seek. It is in your best interest to ensure it remains that way."

"Wait, you bastard," Dean shouted at the dust speeding past them in a rush. Just like that, that thing was leaving them with nothing but a mess to clean up. What the hell had that meant? Why did he get the feeling the thing hadn't been talking to him? "Be careful, Sammy."

"She can't move," Sam wasn't a doctor but he was positive that piece of bone was part of the spine. The girl was paralyzed from the waist down and had a few minutes at most. Stepping closer he looked at the circle created by the picture of innocent children. The diagram was unknown to him but seeing the pictures proved that whatever spell she had been casting had been the one affecting those in a coma. They would know for sure when they got back to the hospital. In the center was another picture, a baby picture. It was old and taken with a polaroid.

"What did you find?" Dean couldn't bring himself to pity the witch as she took her last breath. There went any chance of them finding out what she had been doing. What kind of spell required the use of so many children? What had they been sent to interrupt? "What is it?"

"A polaroid of a baby, I'd say over twenty years old." Sam pocketed the picture before bending over to take a look at the many others scattered about, no longer in the required circular pattern. "There is too much blood to get a good look at the diagram. This section here is visible, but I've never seen it before."

"Get a good look and we'll figure it out later. The guy said something about some kind of ward, and them seeking someone, we can start there. I doubt she was working alone, but if we wanna trust that thing, whatever spell she was casting was interrupted. I doubt they'll try here again."

"And if this picture was the focus point, we now have it." It was better to use something of a personal nature, a belonging unless they were searching for someone. From their knowledge for one to use a picture it was to cast a spell directly on that person, but why use a picture that was old? "I don't get it, Dean. Why use a picture that is clearly decades old? The baby in the picture has to be over twenty by now so why use an outdated photo? How can they be sure they are targeting the right person? There isn't any type of personal belonging as a focus, so what kind of spell was she casting?"

"What did he mean by 'a way around the wards'?" Dean could only think of one reason for the baby picture and the mention of wards. "Just a guess but she was drawing the energy from the other children in order to find one. Might be some kind of scrying spell, he did say he wouldn't allow her to leave with the information."

"Okay, so she was most likely trying to locate the baby in the picture." Sam placed a hand over his pocket where it was secure. The man had said she wouldn't leave with the info, what information could there be to find from a twenty-year old picture? That also left what kind of wards was she trying to get pass. They had done what they had come for, the ritual had been stopped and hopefully the kids were still alive. "Let's go check on the children and then we'll figure the rest out."

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Please leave reviews for me, thanx!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Chapter is up, hope you enjoy! Was edited quickly so sorry for any mistakes.

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Chapter Three

"Hey, Stinky!" Dean tossed the pen top, only to have his aim go wide and strike the headboard instead of the bowed head. The reason for not getting an answer to his last three questions was because he was being ignored. What was so interesting about the picture? There was nothing revealing or important on the old polaroid. "Take the shower first, I'm going to head down to that little pizza joint and grab some dinner."

"Go ahead," Sam ignored the implication that he smelt any worse than his sibling. After being on the road for three days, he was sure that he was in dire need of soap. Whether or not he could get clean in this dump was debatable. Another dive to spend the night in because more than half of their fake cards were no longer active and they were low on cash. "Nothing with onions."

The door clicked softly, leaving Sam alone on the double bed. His attention was still on the aged polaroid between his fingers. There was nothing telling, there was no way for them to find out who it was. The longer he focused on the image, his gut tightened in anticipation. There had to be something important about it. It was a feeling, he just knew that whoever the baby was, they were in danger and somehow very important. It was unnerving getting such a strong feeling from a single picture. One couldn't tell if it were female or male, when it was taken, or possibly where. It would be pointless to try to investigate the case when they had absolutely nothing to go on. Couldn't he be happy that they had prevented the death of several children?

The evidence was placed gently on the nearby stand. Dean thought him crazy for holding onto it, but it was all they had to go on. Without it those responsible wouldn't be able to use it as a focus point. That might buy them some time to discover who it was and what they wanted. He reached down to remove his shoes and socks, a shower would help to clear his head. Food would be the next step and then he planned on searching for clues online. Maybe if they knew exactly what kind of spell was being performed, they would get more answers.

The bathroom door was left ajar in case and he stripped down in front of the cracked mirror. Sam eyed the scars adorning his torso and arms from years of hunting. He was lucky that scars were the only lingering signs of the past decade. His hair was already in dire need of a cut and the facial hair would be left alone. He didn't feel up to shaving yet, so he forwent all that and stepped into the shower. The warm water beat along his chest, it took lowering his head to get it wet in a shower created for the average person.

The long strands were soaked through within seconds, fingers massaging his scalp, causing an image to form. Ear length hair, strands with the slightest amount of curl near the end. A dirty blonde, with pretty features and a soft voice; one that was becoming more clear. A beautiful male with a slender form, gentle hands, and the ability to leave him speechless in the dreams. The dream this morning had been so clear, each image clung to his mind. The one that was plaquing his dreams may not even be a real person and why did that thought disappoint him? Finally, he could recall a face but no name, what did it mean? Was his subconscious mind creating this person?

Why would it? Why would he create the image of another male to dream about? All of his life he had always preferred females. Not once had he looked at a man and been sexually attracted. Then why the hell was his cock getting hard now? It was starting to stand recalling the latest dream and what had been occurring in the car. The dream lover had been in his lap on the back seat, doing things that would make Dean never wish to enter the vehicle again.

A therapist would most likely insist that he was going through some kind of inner-turmoil. That his dreams were telling him that he was confused about what he wanted with his life. It wouldn't be far from the mark either. After a decade of hunting, he was starting to feel burned out. He wasn't sure how much longer he wanted to do this. How many more years before he was killed permanently? How many more women would come and go in his life? What happened to his desire to one day want a family? He wasn't so sure if he wanted children, but he did want someone special in his life. There hadn't been anyone really special since Jessica had died. He had cared and loved a few but never one he would have settled down with. When was it time to stop hunting and focus on himself?

Lonely or unsure, it didn't explain the reason he was dreaming of having sex with a male. Unless his mind was completely fucked and confused. Proving exactly how screwed up and unsure of his decisions he really was. That's all it could be because there was no way someone could make him feel that way in the flesh. Not once had sex left him feeling like that, before or after.

"Dean?" He reached forward to turn off the spray noting movement through the mirror. The flimsy curtain was pushed aside, he was sure he had caught sight of something through the fogged plastic. There was some soap scum but it was otherwise clear enough to see through.

No answer, it wasn't his brother, and his gun was on the bed. Without bothering to grab a towel, he peeked through the mirror to search for movement. There wasn't any. Carefully, he looked into the room, hoping someone wasn't waiting to take his head off. It might have been his mind playing tricks or a shadow. The room was as he had left it, nothing out of place. Except the picture was no longer on the nearby nightstand. It had been moved to the bed, next to his weapon. There was also a piece of paper, his weapon being used as a weight to keep it from moving.

The door clicked and swung open, letting the evening sun into the room. Sam swore seeing his sibling standing in the doorway with a disgusted expression. It would have been more appalling if a stranger had been walking by, as it was, only Dean was gawking at his nakedness. "Were you here a minute ago?"

"No, and why the hell are you standing around naked? I don't need to see your inadequacies." Dean lowered his gaze from the semi-erect penis of his little brother. He already knew that he wasn't the only one that took after their father. It rankled that Sammy took a bit more, but he wasn't jealous.

Sam scoffed at the remark and went to grab a towel. Once the thin cloth was around his waist, he stepped back out. Dean was placing the pizza on the other bed. "Someone was just inside the room, I didn't get out quick enough to see who it was."

"Just now?" Dean inquired, still refraining from looking at the obvious bulge beneath the towel. Just knowing that Sammy had been doing something in the shower was weirding him out. "Did you wait until you were finished before checking it out?"

"There wasn't anything to finish and I'd say about five minutes ago, I saw the person briefly in the mirror." He hadn't been jacking off. If he had been, he would have run out with an erection the second he had spotted someone. An orgasm wasn't worth dying for.

"That isn't possible, Sammy." Dean removed the coat while eyeing the room. No one was in the room so that meant no one had been inside. "I was outside, just down the hall. There is this cute little redhead that has invited me to breakfast. I could see the door, no one came out of it."

"I don't care what you did or didn't see, I know what I did." Sam wouldn't second guess what he had seen. "I glanced out and saw someone in the room. Dark clothing, tall and built like a male. And before you say I am imagining things, my imagination moved the picture and also left us a note."

"A note?" Dean followed the finger. There was a folded piece of paper underneath the gun. Who would sneak into the room and do nothing but leave a message? He yanked it out from beneath and opened it. "Did you read it? What is this? Mason Heights, Richmond, Virginia. Oh, and it has your name, so I assume it was left for you."

"That is all? It doesn't give an actual address or anything else?" That was a bit vague. Was it a community, a sub-division, or a hotel? That clarified why someone had been in their room. "He moved the picture too. I put it on the nightstand before jumping in the shower."

"Okay, so someone was in the room. Someone that didn't need to use the door to leave." Dean frowned thinking how much danger Sam had been in. This visitor could have attacked him in the shower. He hadn't been gone for more than twenty minutes, that wasn't a lot of time. Someone was watching them.

"I want to check it out," Sam sat down on the edge of the mattress. His laptop was grabbed from his bag and plugged into the wall. The guest password was typed in for the sucky free wi-fi. It was a clue and it had to do with this case. Why else put the picture next to the note?

"Figures, but can we at least eat and get some sleep before driving again?" Dean didn't open his mouth to protest the decision. There was no point, and he was curious as well. Who was tailing them and why were they to head to this place? Why the hell was this unknown entity focusing on only one of them. It was like their informant was making this case personal for Sam.

"Sure," he wouldn't get much sleep but he would allow Dean to get some rest. Sam got comfortable on the mattress, after slipping on boxers. The box was brought over, within arms reach. Eating was put on hold, as his search for Mason Heights in Richmond, Virginia resulted in a positive search. The first link was from a local website, a site about haunted places in the states. Scrolling down, there were several others, all about haunted places. Giving in, he clicked on the first for the hell of it. Mason Heights was an apartment complex, or had been at one time. Thirty-three years ago it had burned down and has been abandoned since. It made the website's list due to it being haunted.

Curious, Sam clinked on the picture of the building at it's finest to see what else the site had to say about it. After the original burning, several people died while trying to clean up the property. A few fires, noises, ghosts being spotted roaming through windows. The building was still empty according to the site. What was special about this place? Why alert them to its existence? A fire? A building fire over thirty years ago. Was there some connection?

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He wasn't imagining it, someone was definitely following him. Spencer could confirm at least two that were keeping an even pace with him. Both male, in their later twenties, wearing leather jackets, and sporting expensive shades. The moment he had exited the library, the tail had begun. Many reasons, possibilities, and suspects flashed through his brain. Just being followed was worrisome without not knowing the why or who. He had yet to tell anyone about someone being in his home and planting prints for him to find. Some sick bastard had to be starting a game, one he didn't wish to play.

Another block, the two became three, and there were only four more blocks until he was home. The scenario of being caught or attacked was looking greater by the second. He could take a cab, if he could manage to flag one down. Could he do it before they gained on him and pulled a weapon? His own had been left at home, a mistake he was going to pay for. Another block and getting away wasn't going to be an option. He withdrew his phone and quickly dialed the first number in speed dial.

Five rings and it went to voice mail. Aaron wasn't picking up for whatever reason and he was running out of time. The next was hastily dialed from memory, and luck was with him because JJ picked up on the second ring. "JJ, it's me, I need you to listen to everything I'm about to tell you."

"Spence?"

"I'm currently on Wilson, in thirty seconds I will purposely pass the atm. There are three of them; all in leather jackets and shades. I got two minutes at most before they make their move." Spencer shivered in apprehension and purposely stopped directly five feet in front of the invisible camera.

"Wait, I'm in my car with Will. We're only fifteen away, can you make it into a store?"

"No, I can't." Not when there was a giant coming at him. The man-thing had to be close to seven feet tall and built like a tank. The smooth way the limbs maneuvered around the crowd was agile and swift. He was blocked in and the only way out was to run into speeding traffic or scale the wall. "I'm trapped. Talk to Kevin, ask him about the favor."

"Wha…..?" The question was cut off, the phone yanked from his hand. Where the hell had she come from? Spencer eyed the female beaming an eerie smile into his face at being able to confiscate his phone. He should have noticed her, the blue hair made it hard to miss.

"Be a good boy and don't make a scene, you see them." She spoke with a gentle voice belonging on a teacher. The cell was released to strike the pavement with a hard thwack. A leather clad heel came down in the middle of his phone. "You're observant, you wouldn't want to get hurt by doing something stupid. It would be such a pity if you got a scratch."

A scratch? Right now, he was contemplating his survival chances if he were to try to frogger his way across midday traffic. In a vehicle, JJ wouldn't make it in time. He had a feeling these people wouldn't hesitate to knock him unconscious via a solid punch to the face. If the big one were to strike him, he'd be lucky to still have his brain in a solid mass. "What do you want?"

"You're going to get in the car." Leather coat guy number two spoke up from behind, cocking his head to the left. A black sedan stopped mid-traffic and all four circled him. "Move or we move you."

With a healthy push to the spine. Hands grabbed his arms, propelling his pathetic weight towards the open door. Vehicles honked impatiently from the holdup but none bothered to care that he was being led away. The giant slide across the seat first, then he was shoved to climb inside and yanked over. It ended when his side slammed into solid concrete. Leather coat guy number one took up the other side and number two took the front passenger. The female didn't bother getting inside, they pulled off, leaving the girl behind.

Spencer darted his gaze to the driver, an elderly female. Grey lined platinum hair, framing a wrinkled face, and heavily painted lips. The car turned down a side street, then another before coming to a horrifying halt. That hadn't taken long, they could have just walked him this far.

"Do it and make sure he doesn't get away. I will meet you back at the estate the moment I know I'm not being followed." The driver unlocked the doors to let them out.

That wasn't good. Spencer winced at being yanked from the vehicle. They were manhandling him without care and all three were left standing in the middle of the street. If they stalled long enough, there was a chance JJ would drive by searching for where he had been taken. Until Lug leaned over and lifted up a manhole cover. He hadn't thought of that. Hell, that thing had to weigh a good three hundred pounds of solid metal. Workers had to use equipment to lift those things in order to access the tunnels. It was one of the many that had been swapped out due to citizens going beneath the streets to take up residence. All of them weren't exchanged but this one had been. Dammit, they were covering their asses.

Spencer went over what would happen the moment JJ found him missing. She would call Hotch, or try, and then it would be Rossi. The team would be assembled and they would pull the video from the atm, as he had planned. They would see what kind of vehicle he had been taken in. They would follow the direction and try to search for it. If they discovered that he had been dropped off somewhere, they would follow the path it could have taken. All the streets along this route, the dozen manhole covers were all new. They would assume that it wouldn't be lifted without the right equipment. The closest accessible grate was over five miles away, it was perfect. His team wouldn't think to look for their escape into the tunnels below. The group could take him anywhere in the five mile radius or simply exit elsewhere and get into a new vehicle.

"Down, now."

"I'm going," only because he didn't want to test just how strong the silent one was. Spencer couldn't guess from his muscles because by lifting up the cover so easily would automatically throw off any figures he could produce just by muscle mass alone. He regretted not trying to make a run through traffic already. Thick sludge coated the metallic ladder and the smell was horrible. It reeked of stale cheese and sweaty feet. "Where are you taking me?"

"To him."

That was vague. Him could be anyone and Spencer had no clue who would go through the trouble of hiring thugs to kidnap him. The sewer tunnel led to exactly fourteen possible exists, if they didn't take the three sub-tunnels. If by chance his team realized that he had been taken to the sewers, following was out of the question. By the time they got around to figuring out that he was no longer in the vehicle, he could be several states away or dead. If he wanted out of this, he would have to take care of himself.

Being surrounded gave him a chance to profile the three assailants. The largest was inhumanly proportioned, silent, the strength of the trio, and the last one he should worry about. The slender one walking in front was leading them with an air of confidence, in complete control of the situation. The third was nervously looking around, looking for a tail, and listening. Spencer wasn't sure how he knew it but it was a gut feeling. The third was listening to the sounds around them. What did the man hope to hear in the concrete tunnel?

The harsh scent of burning plastic tickled his nose. They should be more worried about where the scent was coming from. A fire down here was hazardous, all the waste would catch ablaze in seconds. Spencer was glad that he wasn't the only one aware of the smell. The watcher was whipping his head back to front, in search of the location. They were turning another corner, putting them beneath Cooper Street, three streets south from entering the sewers. The tunnels were getting wider the further they traveled towards the outskirts of the city.

Two rights, a left, another right and straight through six more intersections, Spencer had given up trying to figure out which street he was underneath. He was more concerned about the noise the leader was emitting. It reminded him of a wounded dog he had once found on the side of the road. The dying animal had been whimpering while warning him not to come near. This time it was coming from his captor and all three seemed to be on alert. Was luck with him? Had JJ managed to spot them before going beneath the streets?

"We got company, keep it tight." The big guy finally spoke, a tone that sent a chill down the spine. "Sulfur, when he arrives I'll deal with him."

It did smell like sulfur. Spencer didn't want to question how they knew it was a man nearing because of the type of scent. What kind of man smelt like sulfur enough that this group could identify him? Another person, someone these three didn't want arriving, but it was someone they knew. One would think that the fourth person would do something about the smell since it would always give away his approach. Unless the unknown person was cocky enough he didn't think he needed the element of surprise.

"You're a cocky one."

It wasn't possible. Spencer blinked, ignoring the pain of being jerked by the arm towards the lead. One second the tunnel had been clear, then it wasn't. The man had appeared out of nowhere, a side-tunnel perhaps? It was the only explanation for how he could have gotten there within the time it took him to blink. The others were suddenly showing signs of being nervous and anxious seeing the fourth male appear. Another person meant a second group, but why would two different people be after him? Not even in the B.A.U. was he someone important enough to hire professional hitmen. Wait, the man was stepping closer, exposing his face. True fear coiled in Spencer's gut as he took in the face, the fancy suit, and then the odor. He should have thought about it the moment he caught the scent. The man with the burnt cologne from the elevator. It was the same one that had rode the elevator with him, but why? None of it made any sense.

"I'll give you to the count of three to let him go." Elevator man casually ran a hand through the peppered hair, giving the ultimatum with the tone one would use while asking for directions. "One."

"You can't stop it," Leader guy gave the nod for the big guy to do something. "His will must be obeyed. You of all people should know this, Kabal."

"Two." Kabal snapped, mild irritation in the single word.

"Do it."

Do it meant the big one was to release a horrifying sound from his mouth and do something out of a horror movie. Spencer barely heard the shout of three. The seconds slowed to a halt as he watched in disbelief. The clothes tore like Charmin tissue and it was leathery skin to protrude and become exposed. The flesh was tinted grey and the man's face widened and the eyes had glazed over to complete blackness.

It was the most damning changes he could digest before his arm was yanked again. His feet stumbled over themselves but his weight was kept upright and moving forward. A scream came from behind but neither of the two still abducting him bothered to glance back in the direction they left their friend. Spencer assumed that the screams and the crashes were from the thing taking care of the smelly fourth. Had it been a feeble rescue attempt or another kidnapping? The answer would die with the one that had been called Kabal.

His mind was still trying to make sense of what he had seen. Some kind of mutation or was he having some kind of hallucination? Was his body still standing on the street while his mind carried him off into the unknown? No way in hell the tunnel had just exploded behind them. That kind of explosion would alert the authorities and every civilian above ground. The tremors rocked the small space and caused the two to come to a halt after taking the next corner. Was it still safe to be down here?

Water? Spencer reached up feeling the moisture strike his cheek. What should have been clear was crimson and warm. Where? Had debris fallen to strike him without causing pain? A gurgling sound came from the one in charge a second before fingers burst through the back of the leather jacket, reaching towards him. Clawed, dirty, and intact digits created a sloshing sound, exiting the still form in front. The one behind became aware of the slaying at the same moment and stepped back hastily, leaving Spencer to fend for himself. The body fell like a doll to hit the stale water face first.

"How?" There was nothing logical about how fast the man came to be standing in front of him or how he had managed to get in front of them to kill someone. Was he about to die? Spencer couldn't explain why he couldn't bring himself to do anything but try to wipe the remainder of the blood from his cheek. Death was imminent and running would be foolish.

"Boy, listen to what I'm about to say." Kabal spoke directly at the third kidnapper but they knew who he was addressing. "I only managed to stall the big one, he's a tough bastard, so you'll be leaving alone."

"I will?" Would he be leaving here alone, alive? Spencer had no idea who the man was but if he was leaving alone and alive, it meant he was free. Wait, how the hell was the big man not dead? How did not one but two men survive that kind of explosion?

"Keep straight, take the second right you come to, then the next left, and that should take you to a dead end with an exit. You take that exit to the surface, you'll see a vehicle, take the keys." Kabal unclenched his fingers, eyes remaining on the third man. A set of keys were tossed. "You will get out of here but you will not return home or to work. Nor will you contact your friends and family. You will not contact your lover either, is that clear?"

No, how did this man know about his and Hotch's relationship? Why couldn't he contact anyone? Why did this man assume he was going to listen to anything that was said? The first thing he was going to do was call the police and get somewhere safe. The first person he was going to rush to would be his boyfriend.

"You go to him and he'll die. Their master is tired of waiting and if you involve those close to you, they'll be used. If you care about them, you'll do as I say. Run, drive, you'll find that I left everything you'll need. Get out of here, before this idiot tries to grab you."

The man was creeping closer, Spencer felt it in every nerve, the waiting kidnapper was through waiting for them to chat. A lunge and both men collided into each other, then through the concrete wall. Waiting was stupid and he didn't need to be told that running was the wisest course of action. He wasn't a coward but he was a genius that knew he wasn't capable of dealing with men that could survive explosions and going through a five-foot thick wall and stand to continue fighting. The first step of figuring out what he had unwilling got dragged into was to get to safety.

He took the indicated directions, hoping the man had given him the way out of the tunnels. The bottom half of his pants were soaked through and his sneakers were shot and water-logged. Another explosion echoed from somewhere and the ground shook from it. That would definitely garner attention above. After ten more minutes of running, Spencer spotted the open manhole, sunlight beckoning him forward. Nothing prevented him from climbing upwards and above ground.

It had led to a vacated construction site. The new apartment complex that was going up but the project had been put on hold due to ownership changing hands. Parked next to a pile of beams was a vehicle, the one the man had spoken of? Would the key in his hand work? There was nothing else around, it had to be the one. Being an agent he should concern himself about who it belonged to or if it was stolen. None of those questions kept him from running to the white Lexus and hitting the unlock button. The alarm was turned off with a soft beep and he was able to slip inside and into the driver seat. The engine turned over, the soft purr of a brand new vehicle.

The ground shook again, easily felt despite being in the vehicle. Spencer hesitated for four seconds before putting the car in gear. Dirt was thrown up from the speed it took off across the lot. There was no traffic on the half-made road leading to the complex and an oncoming car kept him waiting at the stop sign for less than a minute. He pulled out onto the road, heading towards the closest intersection. The sounds of sirens were getting louder all around. He stopped three cars short of the red light, allowing emergency vehicles to head towards the source of the underground disturbance.

Taking a deep breath, he realized he had to make a quick decision. Did he continue straight and head back to the office or home? Or did he take this right to get onto the interstate and get far away as he possible could?

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Please leave any comments, I appreciate them a lot.


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